


Bad Religion

by thatwasahaiku



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:22:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatwasahaiku/pseuds/thatwasahaiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically a one shot/songfic based upon the song of the same name by Frank Ocean. All about unrequited love and feelings and such. Just go listen to the song and you’ll understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Religion

“Where to?” 

“Don’t care.” Zayn’s voice was rough. His fingertips and lips burned from all of the cigarettes he had been smoking before taking the leap and hailing a cab.

 

The cab driver was silent. He needed a destination.

 

Zayn scoffed. “I don’t care where we go. Just drive.” He leaned back into the pleather seat. All he could think of was the people who had sat here before them. What were their stories? Who had they loved? Was their love reciprocated? “You’re my shrink for the hour.” He mumbled loud enough for the driver to hear. “Just leave the meter running.”

 

The cab merged over into the lane of traffic and Zayn breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol he had downed before strutting out of the hotel like he owned the place or reality finally crashing down on his shoulders, but Zayn felt like talking. He needed to just get it all out in the open. He needed someone to know. Someone that didn’t know him. Someone that wouldn’t judge him. Someone that wasn’t Liam.

 

“It’s rush hour,” Zayn spoke up. The driver’s dark eyes met his own in he rearview mirror. “I mean, you can just go wherever.”  The image of Liam’s sleeping form, curled up into Zayn’s side overwhelmed Zayn’s senses. He gritted his teeth. “just need to leave some demons behind for a while.”

 

Zayn didn’t think the cab driver was listening to him. Hell, they never listened did they? They did their job and didn’t ask questions. They were paid to get the customer from point A to point B, not to give advice. That was probably the reason Zayn felt so safe confiding in the man he would never see again.

 

“Allah hu akbar.”

 

“Don’t curse me.” Zayn spat venomously. He didn’t even realize what the man had said before he responded. Recognition sat in and he cursed himself inwardly. He understood what the man had said. _God is great._ He knew he should apologize to the driver…but decided to feign ignorance.

 

“Bo bo, you need prayer.” The driver’s accent was thick.

 

‘I guess it couldn’t hurt me.” Zayn laughed darkly.

 

Prayer. Religion. Bullshit.

 

He’d given up on all of that long ago. He had been a child to believe in those silly things. He was a man now. Life had changed him; it had hardened him. It had thrown a love so strong in his face but then ripped it right out from under him before he could even register what was happening. But it had been too late.

 

“If it brings me to my knees, it’s a bad religion.” Zayn stared out the window at the city passing all around them, all of the lives, all of the loves.

 

The cab driver didn’t say anything and neither did Zayn for a good block or so. Zayn was lost in his thoughts. They were all the same, running in some sort of circle around his mind. Liam. Liam. Liam. Liam.

 

“You know, unrequited love…” he paused, his voice hitching in the back of his throat. He needed to go on, he needed to say this. He couldn’t keep hiding it anymore. “It’s-it’s nothing but a one-man cult” Zayn pulled his pack of cigarettes out from his jacket pocket. One fell out and he played with it absentmindedly. “With cyanide in my Styrofoam cup.” He laughed bitterly.

 

His heart hurt, plain and simple. His heart was aching and bleeding. It had been beaten and abused and left to die on the floor in some cold dark basement room. The chances of survival were slim to none, but Zayn needed to. He needed to survive. He just needed time.

 

“You know, I could never make him love me.” He spoke to the window but he knew the cab driver was still listening. The radio had been lowered and Zayn felt his voice trembling. “Never make him love me.” He reiterated and fell silent once more.

 

Love me

 

Love me

 

Love me

 

Love

 

Love

 

Love

 

Love was what he felt.

 

Love was what had taken such a strong liking to his heart before leaving it tattered out in the cold to die.

 

Love was the reason to wake up in the mornings.

 

Love was that smile staring back at him during sound checks and interviews.

 

Love was that arm wrapped around his waist as they bowed for the night.

 

Love was that whisper in his ear, meant for him and only him.

 

Love was Liam Payne.

 

Zayn’s head was pounding. He felt like he was overdosing, the world spinning madly around him. But he was fine. He had to be fine. He was always fine.

 

“Taxi driver,” the eyes met his once again. “It’s like I’ve got three lives, I swear. And they’re all balanced on my head like steak knives.” Not a comparison to be proud of, for sure. But this is what his love did to him; it took him and ripped him apart. His words didn’t make sense. Nothing about him made sense anymore. He was no longer just Zayn. He was Zayn who loved Liam. Zayn who would do anything for Liam; Zayn who would die for Liam. Zayn who would be left behind as Liam went on to bigger and better things. Zayn, whose love would be forgotten, discarded and looked over. Zayn who would love and wouldn’t be loved in return; Zayn who was never loved in return.

 

“I can’t tell you the truth behind my disguise,” he confessed, referring partly to his layers of clothes, and partly to the disguise that he was slowly ripping away for the stranger. It was strangely therapeutic opening up to the man. He could be himself without worry or care. He could be Liam’s Zayn without worrying about it all crumbling down on him.

 

“I can’t trust no one.” He whispered. The thought overpowered him and he could feel salty tears coming to his eyes. That was the story. He couldn’t trust anyone. None of the guys would understand. The fans wouldn’t get it, as much as they would try to comprehend. There was no one he could put himself fully into, and know that they would be there for him. Hell, he couldn’t even trust himself.

 

“Allah hu akbar.” The driver spoke again. This time his voice was stronger, more emphasis used.

 

Zayn rolled his eyes and maintained his composure. “Don’t curse me.”

 

The driver seemed to see straight through his façade. “Bo bo, you need prayer.” He slowly repeated.

 

Zayn laughed bitterly. There was only one religion he needed. And it had fucked him over. It had left him to die. It had turned on him. It had killed him.

 

Love was a terrible religion.

 

 It was the worst religion.

 

It was the only religion.

 

In all of history, love had been the driving force. Love for power. Love for knowledge. Love for money. Love for a warm pair of arms wrapping around your middle. Love for comfort and security.  Love for late night conversations and twitcams. Love for love.

 

“If it brings me to my knees,” Zayn thought of all the times he would have gladly gotten on his knees for Liam and Liam had simply passed him over, not even realizing Zayn laying his life down on the line. “It’s a bad religion.”

 

The driver grunted, but didn’t respond. How could he respond to someone so set in their ways? Zayn didn’t need convincing. He didn’t need prayer. Zayn needed someone to understand. Zayn needed someone to love him.

 

Zayn needed Liam.

 

But his unrequited love would always remain.

 

Forever in the same state

 

Unchanging

 

Zayn would remain in his one-man cult. He would take that Styrofoam cup firmly in his hand and drink that cyanide without a second thought. This was the only way he could live.

 

He could only live with his love

 

It had become a part of him.

 

Zayn was his love and his love was Zayn.

 

It was poisoning him from the inside, corrupting every fiber of his tattooed being. But he wouldn’t change it for the world. Being in love with Liam was all he needed, all he wanted.

 

“It’s a bad religion.” He sniffed. The tear tracks stung his cheeks. He needed to shave. He needed a shower. He needed to pull himself together. “To be in love with someone who could never love you.”

 

His fantasy of Liam pulling him tightly and close, their mouths pressing together seemed real. He could taste Liam on his tongue. He could feel Liam’s skin, hot, underneath his own. He could feel Liam. He could. He could.

 

“Who could never love you.”

 

Liam smiling with Danielle. Laughing with Danielle. Kissing Danielle. Getting married to Danielle. Living the perfect and content life that he deserved with Danielle. Liam and Danielle. Liam and Danielle.

 

The driver took a turn and Zayn realized they were crossing a bridge, the blaring red taillights piling up in front of him. The car slowed to a stop as they joined the traffic, adding to the mass chaos of life.

 

“I know-“ he paused. There was still so much to say, but Zayn was so tired. So mentally and physically exhausted. The cab driver turned around and looked at him. Zayn gave him a weak smile. “Only a bad religion could have me feeling the way I do.” 


End file.
